The Howls of Nahkriinah

The Skaal seemed to have won the crowd over, from the reception he got. It was an odd one, the Vigilant had seemed most pleased that they had acquired their tracker and the 'Knight' (Far still wasn't sure this Imperial fit the definitions of a Knight) gave him what could have been the friendliest smile he had received in the city. Perhaps even in the hold. Even the half-Giant (for what else could he be?) seemed happy with his presence. It was the Elves who seemed not to care.

Far had nothing against Elves. They were Children of the All Father, just like him and the rest of the races of men. Even if they had forgotten it the most. He'd had dealings with Dunmer before, back on Solstheim. They had a reputation for cut throat dealings, which was founded in some truth. They always came away from a deal with the Skaal with the Grahl's share of the profit. Always looking for more of this, more of that, never happy with their lot in life. Granted, their lot had been a terrible one of late. But born into a post-Red Year Solstheim, neither had the Skaal's. In fact, you could argue it was worse. While the Dunmer's home had been destroyed, the Skaal's home had been given away by a High King who didn't rule them.

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

The other elf on the other hand, he didn't exactly know about. Was it a Wood or High Elf? He's have to ask some time, but either way he knew they had some trouble with the men of this land. Why one would put herself forward like this was beyond him, surely if you were unwanted you should... Leave. That's what Far had done.

Farsten had settled into a high-backed wooden chair by the table. It was uncomfortable to the Skaal, but the lack of arms on the thing suited him nicely. He just crossed his fur-covered arms as he listened to the Vigilant say her words. The Half-Giant spoke out, introducing himself as Siggard. It took him by surprise that the Nord could speak without shaking mountains, perhaps he wasn't really a Half-Giant then. The Skaal was quite taken aback by the years of experience the Nord had, to take that many lives... He pitied him, somewhat.

There was a short stretch of silence after the Nord had finished, and the Skaal saw his moment to chirp in. His accent was clear, slightly more clear than a regular Nordic slur, but more.. Well it could be described as lyrical, the way his words carried from one to the other. "My name is Farsten Mointain-Stalker. I am a Skaal, from Solstheim. I do not have the battle experience of... Siggard here... But I was a Hunter for my village, so I know how to track. Not just animals, either. Men, women, Father-cursed beasts like Werebears too. A Hunter to my people is more than just to bring in food, we are also the... You might say 'guards' of our people. The... Warriors. So I have been trained to fight. I have never seen a... Forsworn? Or a Hag, before. But I am living proof that nothing has bested my spear yet." He stopped his monologue with a wide smile, he didn't want to come off as too cock-sure. But it was clear he was confident in his own abilities.

He leaned forward, his face looking a little more curious "I've no questions until we begin our hunt, but I trust there are Septims to be made in this? My pouch is empty but for snow, air and favours." As a sign of truth, he unclipped the pouch from his bag and dropped it to the table. It was silent as it hit the wood.